The Rave Pup Circle

I just had one of the most profound moments in my nine years of raving.

You may have seen a bunch of folx at raves wearing pup gear, some variation on a dog-like full-head hood or muzzle, and wondered why we’re doing it. Pup play is a mostly-gay/queer subculture where we dress up like dogs, get into character, put aside our human baggage and anxieties, and live in the moment. Does that sound like another subculture you might be familiar with? (Although it has origins in dom/sub play, not everyone practices this element — there’s no wrong way to be a pup, which is part of the fun.)

I first encountered pup play around 2012 — watching a cute human puppy play fetch on the mats at the SF K9 Unit mosh at Folsom St Fair. I thought “that looks like fun, I want to try that!” but it took me until 2019 to actually work up the courage to buy my first pup hood, and two more years to become a pup-event regular. Now I wish I’d gotten over myself sooner! While I thought it looked aesthetically cute, all the elements that make it such a surprising social hack hadn’t occurred to me.

Part of the appeal is that no matter what gifts or handicaps the genetic lottery gave you appearance-wise, everyone is cute in pup gear. You would think that very traditionally-attractive people would feel like they’re giving up a privilege and becoming anonymous when wearing a pup hood that covers your face, but surprisingly they like it too — inside, we’re all just little squishy brains driving clumsy meat suits that want to give and receive love, and taking away the barrier of having to constantly evaluate who is desirable and socially acceptable to exchange attention with and who isn’t is liberating.

So much of culture, and gay culture especially, is predicated on attractiveness. When we’re all on a level playing field, it’s like letting our inner children out to play; we all get to give and recieve affection indiscriminately. It’s much more about your vibe and how you treat people than about how you look. There’s less pressure to come up with clever small-talk, because we tend to be less- or non-verbal in gear (depending on the event and level of headspace appropriate). Barks, growls, scritches, tummy rubs, tail wags, and nuzzles are all you need! Want to flirt with that cute puppy? Just toss them a chew toy! As a human, I’m often anxious about how a stranger will judge me. But meeting people in gear is easy, who doesn’t like a cute puppy?

Another part of the equation is, surprisingly, mindfulness practice. Letting go of worries and living in the moment is a form of meditation, and although it sounds a little absurd, cosplaying as a dog and inhabiting dog-headspace is the only thing that truly lets me let go.

The culture is small enough that it’s exciting to see another pup out in public. Being gay/queer is fun, we immediately have a shared experience of coming out and being a minority in common. Being a gay/queer raver immersed in PLUR culture is even more fun, gay ravers are especially in tune with acceptance and respect. Being a gay/queer pup raver on top of that is pure magic. I feel immediate kinship with other pups, although it means something slightly different to all of us, I know that they’re at least as weird as me. Whenever I travel, I end up at pup events, where sometimes-socially-anxious me can walk into a sticky leather bar with confidence and make friends in literal seconds.

Rave Pups @ EDC 2024

At Lost in Dreams last weekend, I met up with a bunch of my SF pup friends. The regulars at the SF pup moshes (an event where you get on all fours on gym mats and play fetch/wrestle/cuddle with the other pups fully in pup-headspace) are a tight little community. The month prior I was DJing a pup event, and they came out to support, going feral in the front row in front the booth, making for the best DJing experience of my life. We were really happy to see each other. After dancing together through 1.5 sets, one of the pups who helped organize nightly meetups with almost 100 of us at EDC found our group. The meetups were fun, but I wished the pups had gotten to spend more time together, and here we finally were. Then a cute, excitable LA pup also found us and joined the group.

Dab the Sky (Dabin B2B Said the Sky) was on, and their thing is epic, emotional music. They played Dabin’s song Alive, which is about overcoming feeling like a misfit and embracing life:

Sometimes it feels like I don’t belong here

Roots can’t take hold ’cause I didn’t fit

Can’t see the way out through all my tears

I know they always say to hold on for better days

I didn’t think that I could make it

Came close to givin’ up every day

The fact I’m here is kind of amazing

Funny how destiny brought out the best of me

For most of my life, I’ve felt like a misfit of one type or another. I was so low on the grade school social ladder that I was bullied by the kids who were bullied by the cool kids. It wasn’t until college that I learned to socially function, and therapy in my 30s helped me sort out a lot of maladaptive attachment stuff, but I still struggle with the internalized negative self-opinions. (Maybe this is why I like big, emotional tracks about self-love over the stuff with no lyrics.)

I had an ex who was big into the circuit scene — and for a moment, hanging out with the ripped, affluent A-gays (I’m neither of those things) made me feel like I had finally made it. But there’s a clear racial and body type hierarchy in that culture, and it’s heavily about appearances, so I started to feel like an outsider there too. Not everyone in the circuit scene is like this, and I’ve made some wonderful lifelong friends there, but it’s pervasive enough that discovering the more accepting world of raving felt like a revelation.

Here among the pups, finally, is a community where people appreciate me for me. A place where we all tend to be a little bit broken one way or another, but we’ve found a healthy outlet, a source of indiscriminate affection and instant community.

I wanna live, I wanna be right now

I wanna scream ’til my lungs give out

Oh, this is what it means to be alive

I think it started as a group hug between three of us. But it quickly morphed into a circle, with each of us with our arms around the shoulders of our neighbors. Not wanting to leave anyone out, the circle expanded and linked up everyone in our group — SF, LA, Phoenix; new friends and old, about ten of us all facing each other, singing our little hearts out. Usually ravers face the stage; facing and touching each other unlocked something special. There’s a peculiar kind of magic that happens while a powerful song is playing, and you look someone in the eyes, whether you’ve known them for 0 seconds or 10 years, and know that they’re feeling exactly what you’re feeling. It may be the closest this atheist will ever come to a spiritual experience.

And I wish that time would just slow down

I can’t get enough of life right now

Oh, this is what it means to be alive

So here we are. A bunch of grown men in dog costumes, howling under the moon. Spellbound in an alchemical, transcendent, momentary exchange of energy that’s somehow more than the sum of its parts. The fireworks in my heart dwarfed the ones in the sky. This is why I rave. This is why I’m a pup.

I knew it would never capture the feeling, but I wanted to make sure I remembered this moment, so I pulled out my phone and captured a few seconds of wobbly, grainy video of us together, with me singing off key in the audio foreground. As the song ended, I told the group “I adore you all, and I’ve never felt so happy to be a pup.” Some of the pups asked for the video, which is when I realized that I’m not crazy: we all felt the power of that moment. The next time I feel alone, all I’ll have to do is close my eyes remember it.

Kiba the Poly Rave Pup lives in San Francisco and DJs as Confetti Canon. See you at the rave!